


Le Plus Grand Jeu

by here_we_go_taneenersing



Series: La Son De Ta Voix [1]
Category: Romeo et Juliette - Presgurvic
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Nobody Dies, modern day AU, no one is dead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 14:11:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/here_we_go_taneenersing/pseuds/here_we_go_taneenersing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tybalt, stressed out and overworked, is feeling pressured by his parents to get married. Unwilling to meet their demands, he blurts out, "I can't! I have a boyfriend!" He doesn't plan to follow up with it, but he ends up in a compromising situation with his next-door neighbor Mercutio Escalus, and he can't escape the lie. But soon enough, he won't want to. A modern-day edition of La Son de Ta Voix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Under Pressure

"Auntie Anne, what the hell? Who even has a ball? Who even does that? It's the 21st century."  
Tybalt flopped into the cozy chair in his parent's library, staring incredulously at his mother. She grabbed a small ivory envelope off the desk and tossed it to him. He cracked it open; in it was an invitation to the ball.  
"Plenty of people have balls!" she said, and then immediately regretted it. Tybalt burst out laughing and her dark eyes narrowed. "Cut it out. Be serious. This party is important." She grabbed a chair, set it down across from Tybalt, and gently lowered herself into it.  
Tybalt noticed her motions were slow and almost timorous--when did Auntie Anne start getting old?  
"Look, Tybalt," she sighed, folding her hands with care. "You know Uncle Joe and I don't have any kids besides Jules. And--though we love her--and though she's a lovely girl--she can't run the company when Joe and I pass. You can. But not alone." Auntie Anne's gaze turned gentler. "You need to get married."  
"Auntie Anne, that's nonsense," Tybalt said, jumping up from the chair and walking towards the tall bookcases. He let the invite tumble to the ground and didn't look twice. "I don't need to be married."  
"Yes you do, Tybalt," Auntie Anne insisted. "It's not just for the company, either. Tybalt, you're so… so solitary. I know you're a wonderful boy. You've got such a big heart. I've raised you as my own since you were two. Your mother was my baby sister and my best friend, and I see so much of her in you." She stood up from her chair and crossed to where Tybalt stood, gently putting her hand on his shoulder. "You deserve to be loved. You deserve to be married."  
"I'm twenty-five, Auntie Anne," he grumbled, pushing her away. "I'm fine."  
"Please," Auntie Anne begged. "Please just come to the ball."  
Tybalt took a long look at his aunt. Maybe she was right. He was twenty-five. He'd been out of college for years. And Auntie Anne really did just want him to be happy.  
"Yeah, I'll be there," he groaned.  
"Oh, Tybalt!" she laughed, clapping her hands. She pulled him into a tight hug and kissed his cheeks. "Oh, my lil snookums!"  
"Nuff, enough, enough!" he chuckled. "C'mon, Aunt Annie. I gotta go get ready, I guess." He kissed his aunt politely on the top of her head and strode out of the room, stooping to pick up the invitation as he went. "I'll see you tonight!"  
Tybalt left the estate grounds and headed for his garage. He grabbed his phone from his pocket and dialed in a number quickly. "Hey, Jules?"  
"Hey, Tybs!"  
"I'm going to your mom's silly big-ass party tonight," he sighed. "I'm heading into town to pick out a suit. Meet me at Luciano's?"  
"Heck yeah!" Juliet laughed. "I'll be there in twenty. With ice cream."  
"Ooh, good!" Tybalt cooed. "Java chip."  
"Will do! Bye, Tybs!"  
"Bye, Jules!"  
Tybalt tucked his phone back into his pocket and hopped into the front seat of his car. "Dum-da-dummmm, suit shopping, ice cream suit shopping aw yeeee," he half-mumbled, half-sung. "Gonna have a nice time, get drunk at the party. Aw yeee yeah yeeeeee. New suit hella ice cream good dinner nice alcohol yeheeeee." Fifteen minutes later, he arrived at his tailor's building. Juliet was sitting on the bench just outside, holding two ice cream cones in her hands.  
"Tybs!" she cried when he got out of the car. "How's your day going?"  
"Better, with this," he said, grabbing his ice cream cone. "Alright, come on. Help me pick a suit." They entered the store. Immediately, they were greeted by a tall, thin, gray-haired Italian man.  
"Mr Capulet!" he said gleefully, opening his arms. "Good to see you!"  
"Luciano!" Tybalt replied. He wrapped the narrow man in a hug. "It's good to be here."  
"So you're in the mind for a new suit, Mr Capulet?"  
"Yes, Luciano," Tybalt says. "I've got a party tonight."  
"The standard Capulet red, I assume?" Luciano said as he lead Juliet and Tybalt deeper into the store.  
"Correct, Luciano," he said.  
"And it's quite fancy?"  
"Quite."  
"Ah-hah-ha," Luciano sighed. He sat Juliet and Tybalt down in two ebony black comfy chairs. Before them were a big mirror on a raised pedestal and a clothing rack. "Wait here. I'll be back in just a moment." The spindly man disappeared into a room to the left.  
Tybalt looked over at his baby cousin. "Your mom wants me to get married."  
Juliet laughed sharply. "To WHO?"  
"Well damn, when you say it like that," Tybalt said. "I could get somebody if I wanted."  
"But you don't want," Juliet said, "and that's why you don't have anyone. You don't want anyone, and everyone can tell." She reached out and took her cousin's hand. "Tybalt, do you know what a catch you are?"  
"What?" Tybalt said, laughing in surprise. "No."  
"Well you are," Juliet said. "You are attractive. You are rich. You are next in line to run Capulet Industries. You are courteous, and sweet, and intelligent, and witty. Literally every girl in this town talks about you. But you're so frosty. You never let people in. If I weren't born family, I wouldn't know you." She squeezed his hand affectionately and gave him a small smile. "You've got to let someone in, coz. _Someone._ "  
Luciano returned then, and Juliet helped Tybalt pick a new suit in short order. He paid for it and they left the suit store in satisfaction.  
"Alright," Tybalt sighed, tossing his suit into the passenger seat of his car. "I'm gonna go back home and start getting ready. You'll be there, right?"  
"Yep," Juliet said. "Dressed to the nines, sweet coz. See you there." She hopped into her car and drove away.  
Tybalt watched her go, and was about to get into his car when he heard--  
"Well, if it isn't the one and lonely Tybalt Capulet. What brings you out in the daylight, Prince of Cats?"  
Tybalt turned, a frown setting into his lips. "Mercutio!" he laughed bitterly. "How… nice to run into you today."  
Mercutio stalked up to Tybalt, jauntiness in his long limbs. "Will you be at the ball tonight, o Prince of Cats?" he asked. His eyebrows quirked sharply. "Or will you be too busy moping in the upper chambers of your ivory tower?"  
"Where's the rest of your posse, Mercutio?" Tybalt sighed. "Shouldn't you be impressing two teenagers right about now? Buying alcohol for them, taking them to strip clubs, generally being a bad influence?"  
"I only help my boys do what they want to do," Mercutio laughed. "It's what a big brother is for. You should know, _sweet coz._ "  
"Look, Escalus, I've not got the time for this," Tybalt insisted. "If it's really that important to you that you and I have some contrived battle of wits, it can wait until the ball is underway. Yes?"  
Mercutio rolled his eyes heavily. "Yes, fine, Kitten."  
"Don't--ugh!"


	2. What a Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trouble at the ball...

Tybalt found himself standing in front of his mirror at eight o clock that night, locked in an argument with himself. Yes, he had promised Jules and Auntie Annie that he would be at the ball. But he didn't want to run into Mercutio and the two teens, and he didn't want Auntie Annie presenting him to women, and he just wanted to get drunk, which he could do alone just fine enough.

But he promised Auntie Annie.

And he did look quite fine in this suit.

So he took a deep breath, left his room, and headed for the ballroom.

He regretted it almost instantly.

The music, dull. The people, old. The outfits, tacky. Tybalt sensed a waiter passing by, snatched a glass of champagne from his tray, and downed it in one quick gulp. He placed it back on immediately and turned to the waiter.

"Tell all the waiters with alcohol on their trays to stay within thirty feet of me at all times," he commanded. The man nodded and snapped at three waiters, who all closed in.

"Planning to get pissed, Kitten?"

Tybalt almost growled aloud. "Quite fucking sauced, if you must know, Mercutio." He turned on his heel to glare at the young man. Mercutio had come dressed outrageously well, in a neatly-tailored, tight-fitting purple suit. His dark curls were done almost like a girl would do her hair, but his features were so winning that Tybalt didn't even notice. A small gold pin sparkled over his right ear, holding some of his hair out of his face. Tybalt was caught a little off-gaurd. And Mercutio could sense it.

"You look quite nice, Tybalt," Mercutio sighed, stepping closer. He pulled gently on Tybalt's tie pin; to other people, it would look as if Mercutio were just straightening Tybalt's tie. But Tybalt knew Mercutio was messing with him. "You simply _must_ give me the name of your tailor."

"You simply _must_ take one _hell_ of a step back from me," Tybalt snarked, glaring down at Mercutio.

"Oh, boo, Kitten," Mercutio chuckled. He pulled Tybalt by his tie and Tybalt tripped forward, bracing himself on Mercutio's shoulders and barely managing to stay upright. "We are just playing, aren't we? Like when we were children. You were the best boy next door in the whole neighborhood. And, when we got a little older, the best f--"

"Cut it the hell out, Escalus," Tybalt snapped. He slapped Mercutio's hand and shoved him back; there was venom in his voice. "Cut it out or I swear on all the saints in the sky, I will--"

"Tybalt!"

"Auntie Anne." Tybalt drew a sharp breath through in-between his teeth. His aunt approached, arms spread out wide and a smile on her face. "Oh, schnookums, I'm so glad you came!" She kissed Tybalt on the cheek and smoothed his hair. "You could have done more with this, but, que sera! I want you to meet someone!" Behind Aunt Annie came a tall, unimpressive girl, clearly no older than twenty, with over-curled blonde hair and watery blue eyes. Her mouth, though turned up in a simpering smile, was clearly more familiar with pouts and frowns.

"Hullo," she said, and her voice was high to the point of irritation. "My name's Rosaline." She offered her hand to Tybalt and curtsied slightly.

"Hello, Rosaline," Tybalt answered, taking her hand and bowing his head slightly. "I'm Tybalt. It's nice to meet you."

"I've heard an awful lot about you," she said sweetly, taking a tiny step forward. Suddenly, Rosaline and her over-flouncy dress were very much in Tybalt's personal space. She was batting her long lashes and trying to pout sexily. Was--was she--was she flirting?? Tybalt coughed awkwardly and stepped back.

"Um, have you? That's, um."

Rosaline then issued a high-pitched, hiccuping giggle. "Oh, you're awful cute when you're flustered."

"I--um--I'm sorry. Please excuse me." He pushed Rosaline aside and set out in search of his aunt. He found her halfway across the dance floor, standing with two or three other young women. "Aunt Annie?"

"Oooh, Tybalt!" she cooed. "Good, good, I was just going to go looking for you! Come meet the girls." His aunt presented him with three nearly-identical young women. "This is Graziella, Annabelle, and Viviana." They all looked about twenty-two, with matching dull brown eyes and freckled faces. One--Grazi-something-or-other, had black hair; Annabelle had blonde; and Viviana had brown. They all looked equally boring. Tybalt sighed heavily.

"Hello, ladies," he groaned.

"Hello, Tybalt," they said in perfect sync, and then burst into a giggle fit. One, Tybalt was quite sure, snorted.

"Auntie Anne," he insisted, rolling his eyes at his aunt. She just grabbed his hand and towed him in a new direction.  

"If those girls don't suit your taste," she said, "there's--ah, here she is! Nina! Nina. This is my nephew, Tybalt." Nina was a spider-thin French girl with saucer-sized grey eyes and the kind of lips other women murdered for.

"Allo," she said. Her voice was soft and her words affected by the slightest air of an accent. "Is nice to meet you."

_"Bonjour_ ," Tybalt said softly. " _Vous aussi. Mais je dois partir. A bien tot_." He grabbed his aunt's hand again and tried to pull her aside, but she displayed the kind of strength that mothers could display when their little boys refuse to behave.

"Auntie _Anne!_ "

"Here!" Anne insisted. "This is Calliope. She's _Greek_!" Calliope smiled sharply at Tybalt, green eyes flashing.

"Well hello, Tybalt."

"Yes, hello, I'm sorry, goodbye," Tybalt said hurriedly. Again he tried to pull his aunt aside and speak to her; again she gripped him tight and towed him to another girl. First Rebecca, and Cassieopea, and Linder, and Sarah, and Jeane and Marie and Danaelle and Michella until Tybalt couldn't take it anymore. "God _damnit_ , Auntie Anne!" he snapped, shocking Lydia or Mia or whatever blonde-haired airhead he'd just been introduced to.

"Will you stop introducing me to girls!"

"Tybalt!" Anne gasped, horrified. She pulled Tybalt close and lowered her voice. "I am just trying to help you _find_ someone," she said through her teeth.

"Well, I don't want to _find_ anyone!" he replied, his voice rising slightly. "I am perfectly fine the way I am!"

"Tyablt, I told you," Anne snapped. "You need to get married!" Her voice had returned to a normal volume.

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do!"

" _No_ , I _don't_!"

" _Yes, you do!_ "

"Goddamnit, Auntie Anne, I'm not getting married!"

"Why not?!"

"I HAVE A BOYFRIEND."

The entire ballroom fell silent. Tybalt didn't know when he started yelling, or when his chest had constricted, or when his dark cheeks had taken a turn for the red.

"Damnit, Auntie Anne," he sighed, and took off running. He didn't quite know where he was going. Away? Away. Away from the party, from the stress of it all, from the dumbfounded way he felt when Mercutio messed with him, or when he brought up their past, from Auntie Anne, from her love for him, from her insistence, from Rosaline and Graziella, Annabelle, and Viviana, Nina, Rebecca, Casseiopea, Linder, Sarah, Jeane Marie Danaelle Michelle Lydia Mia--

Tybalt crashed to a halt, hands on his knees and chest heaving. He'd lost track of himself, but a short surveyance showed that he was in the western garden--clear on the other side of the estate. He stumbled a few steps and crashed onto the fountain. He stretched his long legs out and curved himself along the low concrete rim. The splashing sounds of the fountain soothed Tybalt. His thoughts slowed down, little by little, and his heart rate slowed, little by little, and he swung his hand into the cool water beside him. The sun was well past set, and the stars were twinkling lazily above him.

Tybalt had always loved stars. He'd always wondered what it would be like to be a star. Completely unoccupied and unpressured. Stars did nothing but twinkle benevolently, and no-one expected them to do anything besides. Stars weren't obligated to get married. Stars weren't obligated to take over businesses or take care of cousins or anything. Stars just got to twinkle all night and sleep all day. Stars got to--

"Oh, Kiiiii-teeeeen!"

_Always with the interruptions,_ Tybalt thought to himself. He staggered one leg over the other and heaved a deep sigh. "Hello, Mercutio," he sighed. "I suppose you've come to finish nitpicking at me?"

"No," Mercutio said softly. He sat on the ground beside Tybalt, legs folded and one atop the other. With no hesitance, Mercutio laid his head in the soft space just above Tybalt's hipbone and slung his arm across Tybalt's chest. "You aren't in the mood." Tybalt sat up slightly and looked at Mercutio. He couldn't believe his eyes. The man was giving him-- _affection._

"What the hell's your deal, Escalus?"

"We used to mean something to each other," Mercutio said, not looking at Tybalt. "We used to be very close. What happened?"

"I came to my senses," Tybalt replied bitingly.

"I won't pretend that doesn't sting," Mercutio sighed.

"You're so childish, Mercutio," Tybalt said. He sat up all the way and pushed Mercutio off. He hopped off the fountain. "You hang out with people half a decade our juniors. You spend your time being a human personification of the word 'gallivanting.' Do you have priorities? Goals?" Mercutio muttered something under his breath and shot Tybalt a sharp look. "Say that again?!" Tybalt demanded.

"Better childish than an asshole!" Mercutio repeated. He jumped to his feet and stepped up to Tybalt. "You have no excuse to be as cruel and frozen as you are! None, whatsoever! You have all the love in the world. You're a fucking prince, Tybalt! And you're--you're grossly fucking handsome." He shoved Tybalt, who staggered back a few steps. "And yet you walk around like the world has just kicked you in the head! News flash, princess! _It hasn't!_ The world has given you every gift it has to give!"

"Shut up," Tybalt snarled, shoving Mercutio back. Tybalt was stronger than Mercutio, and the narrower man stumbled much farther, and would have tripped over his heels were it not for the wall of the courtyard. "You just shut your damn mouth! You're bitter, and you know it! How does it feel, huh? Being an absolute failure and spending your free time with two teenage boys? You were so close to being a _real_ poet, but you couldn't handle it, could you? You fake." He took one long stride and clasped Mercutio's face in his hands.

Mercutio's cheeks were bright, scarlet red. He laughed thinly. "You're so _angry,_ Tybalt." A small smile graced his lips. "You don't have to be this angry."

"What do you know about what I am?" Tybalt insisted, incredibly aware of the sensation of Mercutio's skin beneath his hands. "What do you know about what I have to be?" Mercutio opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a soft squeal and the sound of footsteps.

"Tybalt! This! This is the boyfriend you told us about! Why didn't you say something sooner, my dove?" Auntie Anne came running up to Tybalt and Mercutio, with Uncle Joe close behind. The two men froze, and Tybalt suddenly realized _exactly_ how he and Mercutio looked. Reddened cheeks, parted lips, passionate eyes--and Tybalt had Mercutio's face in his hands--he looked at Mercutio for a sudden, panicked second. But he only smiled.

"Oh, Tibbles!" Mercutio giggled, leaping forward and wrapping his arms around Tybalt's chest. "You finally told them about us!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mercutio's hair: http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/2013/09/02/guys-with-fancy-lady-hair-gender-equality_n_3855672.html#slide=2863764 (without the bump at the top. i don't like the bump at the top.)  
> Mercutio's suit: http://www.fanpop.com/clubs/james-marsden/images/4539497/title/james-hairspray-screencap (it's the best friggin suit in the universe)


	3. Totally F*cked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back ;)

"So what, Escalus? What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"What do you  _think_  you should do, Kitten?"

"I  _think_  I should march myself over there and lodge my foot in your ass."

"Or something else..."

"Shut it. Just shut it." Tybalt gripped his cell phone so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He was pacing around his bedroom anxiously, his other hand alternately pressed to his forehead and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Look, Kitten." Mercutio uttered a heavy sigh. "I know you're frustrated. I'm sorry. I was just trying to help. If you want, I'll go to your aunt and uncle and tell them it was all--"

"No!" Tybalt interrupted. "No. It's only been a day but they've all shut up about me getting married. They won't stop talking about  _you,_  but it's a welcome change."

"So, you want them to keep thinking we're dating?"

Tybalt paused, nibbling at his lower lip anxiously. He could say no, and he wouldn't have to deal with Mercutio for who-knows-how-long, clinging to him and kissing him and giving him affection any time they were in public. But if he said yes, he would have that much time to figure out what he wanted to say to his aunt to get her off his back. And they wouldn't be in public together  _that_  often, would they? 

"Yes," Tybalt admitted. "I want everyone to keep thinking we're dating." 

Mercutio was silent for a moment, making Tybalt nervous. "I'll do it, I'll help you." 

Tybalt let out a breath that he hadn't known he was holding. "Good. Thank you."

"Under one condition."

"Oh, come on!" Tybalt dropped onto his bed, limbs askew. "What do you want?"

"No feelings," Mercutio said immediately. "No matter what."

"What does that even mean?" Tybalt groaned. "No feelings?"

"I mean, neither of us are allowed to have real feelings for each other," Mercutio insisted. "Anything that either of us do in public is fake. It's not real, and we don't love each other. At the end of this, whenever this does end, we hate each other still. Understood?" 

Tybalt was a little shocked. He'd thought Mercutio would jump at any chance to be back in his life, but here he was drawing an emotional line in the sand. Not to say that Tybalt didn't appreciate it--he  _did_ \--but he didn't expect it.

"Yes, understood," Tybalt answered. 

"Good," Mercutio sighed. "Now, you're gonna come over to my place, clearly under the pretenses of making out, and we're gonna go over the details."

"Details?" Tybalt parrotted.

"Yes, details. How did we meet, how long have we been together, what our favorite sex position is--"

" _Mercutio._ "

"Just come over."

"Fine. I'll see you in twenty. 


	4. Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you know something you're doing is wrong, but it feels so right that you could never imagine giving it up.

“I’m not having this conversation right now.”

“Then when, Valentine? When are we gonna talk about this?”

“When Mercutio gets over this silly dalliance with Tybalt,” Valentine sighed, running his fingertips through his hair. “He’s done it before, he’ll certainly do it again.”

“Isn’t now the perfect time for us to go public with each other, though? I mean—tell people, about us?” Benvolio stretched out on the bed, where he lay watching Valentine get dressed. “Your uncle is reacting fine to Mercutio—”

“Mercutio isn’t poised to take over as mayor,” Valentine snapped. He turned on Benvolio stonily. “Mercutio isn’t sleeping with a teenager.”

“I turn twenty in a month,” Benvolio mumbled bashfully.

“And I just turned twenty-seven.” Valentine knelt beside the bed and stroked Benvolio’s cheek, attempting some level of comfort. “Besides, dove, there’s not much us to tell people about. What we do is fun, but… even if I were to come out, you’re not really who I’d publicize a relationship with.”

Benvolio frowned mutely. Something about the tender way his eyelashes brushed the top of his cheeks pulled at Valentine’s heart. But he brushed the sensation away with an invisible speck of dust on the lapel of his jacket.

“I thought you knew what we are, dove,” he sighed. Tenderly, he ran his spidery fingers through Benvolio’s thicket of curls. When Benvolio still wouldn’t look at him, he sighed and stood. “You can stay here and mope all day if you like. Just don’t let the house staff see you.”

“No, Val!” Benvolio reached out and caught hold of Valentine’s wrist. He brought the older man’s hand to his lips, placing a kiss on his palm, and then stretched the cool fingers out along his cheek. “Please, stay? Just cuddle with me for a little bit?”

“In this suit, dove?” Valentine laughed. He leaned down and kissed Benvolio’s welcoming lips. “Besides, I’m already running late. I’ll see you later.”

As Valentine strode out of his bedroom and made his way towards his garage, he struggled with a strange sensation in his chest. A pain, perhaps a sting, for Benvolio. He knew it probably wasn’t good of him to be playing with the boy like this. Especially now that he seemed to be developing delusions about the nature of their relationship. He knew that he had nearly a decade of life experience on the boy—enough to know that he ought to leave the poor thing to his own devices and someone his own age. But every time he thought, really considered cutting things off with Benvolio, he couldn’t do it. That boy was the true definition of fearfully and wonderfully made. As he considered it, he sat down behind the wheel of his car and made the sign of the cross. God had taken extra, purposeful time with Benvolio Montague. Whenever he thought about sending that fatal text—I think our relationship has run its course—he felt beneath his fingertips not the hard glass of his cellphone, but the smooth expanse of his skin, brown like fresh earth. He didn’t see his text messages, he saw the tight curls that framed a halo around that beautiful face, night black at the roots and fading slowly, like a sunset, into golden blonde at the ends. He didn’t hear the world around him, just that soft, honey-sweet voice, moaning, and sighing, and reciting his name like a prayer, Valentine, Valentine, _Valentine_ —

“Valentine?”

“Um. Sorry, Tricia.” Valentine adjusted his tie and adjusted his grip on the wheel. “I’m running a little late, can you move my meetings back by about twenty-five minutes each?”

“I’d love to, Sir, but where will I find the spare time? You have a dinner with your family that you told me I am absolutely not allowed to let you miss.”

“Let it eat into my lunch, Trish,” Valentine announced. “I need to eat light today anyway.”

“And, Mr. Escalus?”

“Yes, Trish?”

“You have—something odd on your calendar today. I think you added it yourself, but I can’t make sense of it.”

“Read it out to me?”

“Uh, it says, _1 Yr A with B_? I think it means… 1year… something with… something?”

Valentine gulped and adjusted his tie. That’s why Ben had been so loath to let him go. “I know what it means, thank you, Trish.”

“Do I need to clear time on your calendar, Sir?”

He glanced out the passenger side window at the passing city of Verona. The horizon was obscured by those big brown eyes, tender and begging.

“No thank you, Trish. Just make sure I get to that dinner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i've been gone so long! aaah! chapters here on out will probably be on the shorter side. hopefully i will be able to update fairly regularly! <3


	5. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner Chez Escalus goes expectedly awry.

There weren't a lot of things in the world that Mercutio hated. He, in fact, could count what he hated on one hand:

  * thumb: adultery
  * pointer finger: animal abuse
  * middle finger: adults being mean to children
  * ring finger: unnecessary screaming
  * pinkie: spending time with his older brother. 



He didn't know when his aversion to his brother had cropped up. When they were young, they were amazingly close—despite the five-year age difference. Best buddies, co-adventurers, confidants. But somewhere along the line, it had spoiled, spoiled rotten. He couldn’t put a finger on when it began. Somehow, Valentine stopped being the brother he knew—the protector, the inventor, the leader he loved and trusted—and became some slicked up, sleazier version of it all. His smile lost honesty, slipped, became wolfish. His eyes, the ones they shared, the ones they inherited from their mother, started shining like plastic instead of amethysts. And the way he looked at people changed, too. When Valentine looked at Mercutio, the love became pity. When he looked at their uncle, the admiration became avarice. When Valentine looked at Mercutio’s friends—he glared at Romeo with distaste, and he gazed at Benvolio with a frightening kind of hunger that made Mercutio want to lock the young man in a tower.

So when Uncle had called him over for a dinner with his brother, Mercutio had spent twenty minutes trying to decline. But there was no taking no for an answer when it came to his uncle. So, reluctantly, he found himself sitting at a table across from his wolf-grinned, plastic-eyed brother and his stony-eyed uncle. The only concession he’d been granted was one of his friends at his side—and Benvolio had volunteered immediately.

The four of them made an awkward gathering, seated around a small glass table settled in the shade on the back patio. The conversation was boring, polite, vaguely but continually skirting the elephant in the room. They all knew it was a short matter of time before—

“So, how’s Tybalt?” Escalus asked, bringing a forkful of chicken satay to his mouth.

Mercutio smiled mischievously. “He’s doing fine. Having a great time coming out to all his friends and family.”

“And you?” Valentine added. “Are you having a great time coming out to all your friends and family?”

Mercutio laughed lightly. “I don’t think anyone I call friends and family don’t know the direction in which I swing, dear brother.”

“I didn’t know,” Escalus said quietly. The smile dancing on Mercutio’s lips faltered and died.

“I’m—sorry, Uncle,” Mercutio murmured. “I took more care to hide it from you, I—I didn’t know, um, what you might think.”

“I think you’re my nephew, Mercutio.” Escalus chewed thoughtfully on another bite of chicken. “I wish you’d trusted with me with this. I wish you’d told me yourself. I wish I didn’t have to hear it from the local gossips.” Escalus heaved a heavy sigh. “But I understand, my boy. It can be a heavy thing. You know I love you, don’t you?”

“Of course I know,” Mercutio said immediately. “Thank you.”

Valentine let out a dark, sarcastic chuckle.

“Do you have something to say, brother?”

Valentine laughed again. “It’s just that—you get away with so much, Cutio. You’re responsible for so little.”

“Do you envy me, Val?” Mercutio snapped. “Do you wish you had my freedom?”

Valentine fixed his brother with a steely glare. “I do. I wish I had the privilege to gallivant around with teenagers and embarrass the heads of the town’s biggest families and just generally behave like I have no future.”

“I turn twenty in a month,” Benvolio interrupted quietly.

“Who asked you?” Valentine said sharply, rounding on Benvolio. “Who even asked you to _be_ here? This is a family dinner, Montague.”

“I asked him to be here, Valentine—”

“Can’t you let the boy speak for himself?” Valentine glared at Benvolio again. “Or is that part of it, that you speak for him, too?”

“I can speak for myself,” Benvolio whispered.

“Speak _up_ , Benvolio.”

“I said I can speak for myself!” Benvolio shouted. His brown eyes were full of fury and, much to everyone’s surprise, he looked to be on the verge of tears. “Do you have to be mean to _everyone_ all the _time_ , Valentine?”  

The young man stood up, wounded fury in his eyes, and stalked away from the table.

After a beat of astounded silence, both brothers stood and announced, “I’ll talk to him.”

Mercutio and Valentine shared a tense glare. “ _I’ll_ talk to him,” Valentine repeated, and disappeared after the younger boy.

Benvolio waited in Valentine’s bedroom, that same hurt pain in his expression. “So when you finally decide it’s okay for people to know you’re gay,” he snapped as Valentine entered, “are you going to leave me, and come out with someone more—respectable? Palatable? Are you going to leave me for someone older?” His eyes softened, losing all their fury now, only showing pain. “Do you love me?”

Valentine stared at Benvolio, taking size of the younger man. In the year of their relationship, Benvolio had never been so fierce and forward with him.

“Are you going to leave me for someone older?” Benvolio repeated. “Do you _love me_?”

Valentine sighed and tipped Benvolio down onto the bed behind him, following him down and straddling him. He dotted his throat and face with impatient kisses.

“Are you going to leave me for someone older?” Benvolio asked again. “Do you love me?”

Valentine undid the buttons on Benvolio’s shirt and tossed it to the side, followed by the thin tank top beneath it. He pressed a kiss to the young man’s chest, right over his thrumming heart. Benvolio shoved him back furiously.

“Are you going to leave me for someone older?” His voice was all anger now. “Do you love me?”

Valentine used his distance to slip his own shirt off, and step out of his pants. He undid Benvolio’s tight jeans and flung them as far away as he could. He knelt over the trembling man again and pressed a deep kiss to his lips, followed by several along his throat.

“Are you going to leave me for someone older?” He’d slipped into a vulnerable whisper. “Do you love me?”

Valentine silenced Benvolio with a kiss and turned him over onto his knees.

Later, when Benvolio lay curled up against Valentine’s chest, still panting softly, he passed a hand through his curls. Those curls that looked like God had touched the end of each individual hair. Valentine surveyed the younger man’s sweet, sleepy face. Valentine realized how fond he was of the way Benvolio’s eyelashes brushed against the tops of his cheeks. And how taken he was with the way Benvolio curled and uncurled his fist across his chest. Valentine pressed a kiss to Benvolio’s forehead.

“I’m not going to leave you for someone older,” he murmured softly. “I do love you.”

Benvolio held Valentine tighter. “Good.”

The next morning, Valentine made breakfast for Benvolio and dropped him off on the Capulet grounds. When he returned to his own estate, he found his uncle waiting for him in the living room.

“Hello, Uncle,” he said, bowing to mask his surprise.

“Hello, nephew.”

“Can I help you with anything?”

Escalus sighed and descended into a dark violet armchair. “I’ve been thinking, since last night—what with this… business with Mercutio. And I have to ask…” Escalus sighed again. “Are you gay, too, Valentine?”

Valentine laughed, fearfully, nervously. “Oh my God, Uncle! Of course not! What a ridiculous question! What on—what on earth—w-would make you ask that?”

Escalus pressed his hand to his forehead. “It’s just—that Benvolio boy didn’t go home last night.”

A chill ran its way down Valentine’s spine. “That was—he—I, uh, uh—it’s—”

“I think that’s my answer.” Escalus rose from his chair.

“Uncle!”

“I don’t know what I did wrong, raising the two of you,” Escalus murmured, not looking at his nephew. “I mean, I know I could never replace my brother and his wife. I’m one man. Maybe there should have been fewer nannies. Maybe I should have taken you to baseball practices and homecoming games myself. Maybe I should have been at more parent teacher meetings. Maybe I could have done more to make the pair of you trust me.” He finally turned his gaze to his elder nephew. “I don’t know how we came to a place where the both of you—I mean, the _both_ of you—felt like you had to hide such a large part of yourselves from me.” His eyes were beginning to water, and Valentine found himself wanting to run away. “What have I done or said that would make you boys believe that I would not love you for everything you are?”

“Nothing, Uncle,” Valentine insisted. “You’ve always loved us, as your own sons. It’s just—Verona’s not ready for a gay mayor. I can’t be myself and have what I want in life.”

“They could be ready if you could have chosen a boy somewhat closer to your age,” Escalus sighed. “He can’t even drink.”

“I won’t leave him,” Valentine said immediately, with a ferocity that shocked himself. He softened his voice. “I c-care about him. I—love him.”

Escalus nodded. “That’s all I can ask of you.” He drew nearer to his nephew and placed an affectionate hand on his shoulder. “I don’t want you to have to hide your love anymore. If you decide to come out, I’ll protect you.”

Valentine’s cheeks reddened immediately and he bit into his lip. “I appreciate that, Uncle. Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey i know this is listed under Presgurvic R&J but it's different now! This is just any old Romeo and Juliet now. I started to feel a little boxed in by the Presgurvic characterization :P


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